Chapter 6 Every Minute
Every Minute
At five forty-five Tuesday evening, I handed my mother the duty phone and told her I was gone for the night.
Bella looked at the phone in my outstretched hand, then at me.
Behind her, the unfinished outdoor bar framed a busy slice of Brewster Bay in raw lumber and half-hung string lights.
Guests moved between the deck and docks with drinks, towels, and the loose purpose of people who'd decided vacation meant letting somebody else remember where everything belonged.
"Gone where?" she asked.
"You know where."
Her mouth curved. "I do. I wanted to hear you say it."
I set the phone in her palm. "Poppy asked for tonight. No work. No calls. No checking in. I'm giving it to her."
Mom tucked the phone into the pocket of her Brewster Bay polo. She didn't tell me the resort could survive without me. She proved it by turning toward a guest who'd raised one hand near the lodge steps.
"Enjoy your night, honey," she said. "I've got this."
That easy.
I stood there for half a second, waiting for my own responsibility reflex to invent an objection.
Sam came up from the dock carrying a stack of orange life jackets against his chest. "Why do you look like you just quit?"
"Because I did. Until morning."
He glanced at Mom's pocket and understood. "Poppy night."
"Poppy night. You have dock and guest-floor coverage. Mom has the phone and final say."
Sam shifted the life jackets higher. "Already checked the rental keys, fuel log, and towel bins. The late pontoon is due back at seven-thirty, and I know where the spare cabin keys are."
"I wasn't going to quiz you."
"You had quiz face."
"That's just my face."
"Sure, Brew." His grin arrived, but he didn't turn himself into the joke. "Go. I won't let anyone die, drown, or complain directly at your mother."
"That's all I ask."
Kit and Luna intercepted me before I made it three steps. Kit carried two welcome folders under one arm. Luna had a clipboard and three cabin keys looped around one finger.
"Poppy's last arrivals are ours," Kit said.
Luna held up the keys. "The seven o'clock cabin walk is mine. Kit took the late check-ins."
"You two didn't have to do that."
"Correct," Luna said. "We wanted to."
Kit looked past me and smiled. "And she's here."
I turned.
Poppy came down the gravel path carrying a small overnight bag and wearing a short floral sundress that moved around her thighs with every step.
Her dark curls fell loose past her shoulders.
The late sun warmed the gold in her tan and flashed across the thin straps of the dress, giving me glimpses of the pale skin her bikinis usually covered.
She spotted Bella's empty hand, then the phone-shaped weight in Mom's pocket. Her gaze moved to Sam, Kit, and Luna already carrying the rest of the evening.
Then she looked at me.
The smile that broke across her face made the whole crowded resort fall out of focus.
Poppy dropped the bag beside my boot and wrapped both arms around my waist. She hit me with enough enthusiasm to rock me back a step. I caught her, breathing in strawberries, clean skin, and the warm trace of a day spent near the lake.
"You already did it," she said against my chest.
"Did what?"
She tipped her face up. "Don't make me list the evidence, Smoke Show. It's very romantic, and I have a reputation to maintain."
"Your reputation survived calling me your boyfriend in front of half the resort."
"Barely. I'm rebuilding."
Her body stayed pressed to mine. The thin dress did very little to soften the full weight of her breasts against my chest, and my hands found the trim curve of her waist before sliding to the small of her back.
Poppy noticed my reaction. Of course she did.
"Every minute?" she asked.
I picked up her bag with one hand and threaded the fingers of my other through hers. "Already started."
Her eyes went bright. She squeezed my hand and pulled me toward the south-row path without asking anybody's permission or offering a polite goodbye.
Behind us, Sam called, "Try to be useful tomorrow."
Poppy looked over her shoulder. "No promises."
Kit laughed. Luna told Sam to mind his own shift. Bella was already helping someone else.
Brewster Bay kept moving.
Poppy swung our joined hands as we walked. Her shoulder bumped my arm. The bag knocked lightly against my leg, reminding me with every other step that she hadn't packed for a short visit.
"What'd you bring?" I asked.
"A toothbrush. Clean clothes. Several terrible intentions."
"Only several?"
"I didn't know how much room your cabin had."
I laughed, and she used the moment to slide closer. Her breast brushed my arm. The scent of strawberries deepened every time the breeze lifted her curls.
"You're staring at my dress," she said.
"I'm thinking about what's under it."
"Pale-blue bra. Matching panties. I wore them for about forty-five minutes, and I'm already emotionally prepared to lose both."
My cock pushed harder against my jeans.
Poppy glanced down and smiled. "Already? We haven't even reached the cabin."
"You showed up with an overnight bag and started talking about losing your underwear."
"That was only the warm-up."
She rose onto her toes, put her mouth beside my ear, and whispered, "Walk faster, Brew. Your Sugar Pop wants her cock."
I tightened my grip on her hand and got us to the cabin before I decided the pine trees offered enough privacy.
She waited while I unlocked the door. The instant it opened, she slipped inside and turned to watch me follow. I set her bag beside the dresser and closed the door.
Poppy reached around me and turned the deadbolt herself.
"Now," she said, "show me how well you listened."
The cabin wasn't fancy enough to impress anyone who'd spent the summer at Rosewater. Worn wood floors. A compact table near the kitchenette. A queen bed tucked against the far wall. One small bathroom with a shower narrow enough to make sharing it an act of optimism.
None of that mattered.
I'd put clean sheets on the bed. Dinner waited on actual plates instead of paper ones. Grilled chicken, summer salad, bread from Bella's kitchen, cold water, and a bowl of strawberries sat on the table. The covered shortcake was waiting in the mini-fridge for later.
Poppy took it in slowly.
"Fresh sheets," she said.
"I own more than one set."
"I know. I've seen the tragic backup set. These are the good ones."
"I wanted to make an effort."
"Baby, you gave away the phone. You could've served me crackers on a towel and I would've proposed."
I pulled my personal phone from my pocket. "Speaking of phones."
Poppy took hers from the small side pocket of her bag. We stood together beside the nightstand and powered them down. I put mine in the top drawer. She laid hers on top of it, pressed her fingertips to the screen once like she was closing a door, then pushed the drawer shut.
No vibration. No glow. No line back to work.
Poppy took my hand and led me to the table I'd set for two.
I sat.
She ignored the second chair and settled sideways across my lap.
"Much better," she said.
"You planning to eat like this?"
"I'm planning to do everything like this."
Her arm went around my shoulders. One bare thigh rested across mine where the dress had ridden up. The fabric pulled tight over her ass, and the weight of her landed directly over the problem she'd already created in my jeans.
Poppy reached for the fork, cut a bite of chicken, and held it to my mouth.
"You first."
I caught her wrist before taking the bite. "Thought this was your night."
"It is. I wanted to feed my hot boyfriend while sitting in his lap. That's a selfish act."
"Convincing argument."
I ate. She smiled like she'd won something.
I loaded the next bite and held it to her lips. Poppy opened, let me feed her, then closed her mouth around the fork slowly enough that my cock gave a hard pulse beneath her.
"You're doing that on purpose," I said.
"Everything tonight is on purpose."
We got through enough dinner to claim we'd tried. Poppy stole bites from my fork. I fed her torn pieces of bread. Every time she reached across the table, her ass shifted against me. Every time I adjusted her weight, my hands ended up farther beneath the hem of her dress.
Her skin was smooth and hot under my palms.
"You made all this happen for me," she said after a while.
It wasn't really a question.
"The chicken came from Mom's kitchen. I handled the rest."
Poppy looked toward the bed, then at the closed drawer, then back at me. Her expression softened without losing its heat.
"Nobody needs me right now," she said.
"I need you."
That pulled a breath from her.
I picked up a strawberry and touched it to her lower lip. She bit into it, then caught my fingers before I could pull away. Her tongue slid over my thumb, gathering the juice. She sucked the tip into her mouth while watching me.
"Sugar Pop."
She let my thumb go. "Yes, Brew?"
"Keep that up and dinner's over."
Poppy turned astride me, one knee on either side of my hips. Her dress bunched high around her thighs. She settled over my erection and rolled once, slow enough to make the pressure hurt.
"Dinner's over," she said.
Her mouth came down on mine.
The first kiss tasted like strawberry. The second tasted like Poppy. By the third, her tongue was deep in my mouth, her fingers were in my hair, and my hands were full of her ass beneath the thin floral fabric.
She ground against me in a slow circle. My cock strained up between us, trapped by denim and the damp heat building behind her panties.
"You're so hard," she murmured against my mouth.
"You climbed into my lap and started sucking my fingers."
"I haven't started sucking what I want yet."
My grip tightened on her ass.
Poppy laughed into the next kiss, bright and filthy. She dragged my lower lip between her teeth, then kissed down my jaw to the side of my neck.
I slid both hands up her back and filled my palms with her breasts through the dress. The bra held them high, but I could feel the heavy spring of them beneath the fabric and the hard points of her nipples pressing into my hands.